If.
The weight of that word presses on me.If.As though all of this—his violence, his threats, his unrelenting campaign to terrorize me—is still up for debate.
I leave the courthouse, my feet heavy, my chest tight. Back at the truck, I sit for a moment, staring at the dashboard. The phone rings, jolting me from my thoughts.
It’s Phil.
I hesitate but answer. “Hello?”
Phil’s voice is sharp, accusatory. “Margaux. I need to talk to you about this situation with Timmy. He says you’re trying to ruin his life.”
My stomach churns. “Phil, he’s been charging at me and spitting on me and trying to grab my phone. I had to leave the apartment. I’m scared.”
Phil sighs heavily. “Well, he’s threatening to kill himself. He says you’re at the courthouse trying to put him in jail.”
My breath catches.
How the fuck does Timmy know where I am?
I turned off my location days ago. He shouldn’t have any way to track me.
“Iamat the courthouse,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “But I’m not trying to put him in jail. I’m here because he’s been violent, and I don’t feel safe.”
Phil cuts me off. “Hold on. I’m putting Timmy on the line.”
A few seconds later, Timmy’s voice bursts through, frantic and slurred.“Dad! Dad! She’s trying to ruin my life! She wants to put me in jail!”
Phil jumps in. “Tell him you’re not trying to put him in jail, Margaux. Tell him now.”
“I’m not trying to put you in jail,” I say flatly. “I just need to feel safe, Timmy. That’s all.”
Phil seizes on my words. “Son, did you hear that? She’s not trying to put you in jail.”
The conversation dissolves into an incoherent back-and-forth between Timmy and Phil. I sit silently, stunned by the absurdity. Phil’s coddling tone, his constant placation—it’s nauseating. It’s like watching a grown man breastfeed his forty-year-old son.
Timmy hangs up in a fit of self-pity. Phil doesn’t miss a beat. “See? Seewhat you’ve done, Margaux? I need to go now. I’m going to have a dead son now,because of you. Buh-bye.”
The line goes dead.
I sit there, my jaw slack, my heart racing. How do two people twist reality so completely? How do they make everything about me when Timmy is the one who’s violent and unhinged?
Talk about a shared delusion.
I don’t have a vendetta to get Timmy locked up for the rest of his life—which, frankly, I should have. I’m just way too exhausted, and not a vindictive piece of shit like him.
I just want him out of my life so he can’t hurt me anymore.
The realization hits me like a freight train.
Fuck.
Sabre is back at the apartment.
I must go save him.
I’ll drive back and then bring him back to the courthouse with me. Because I can’t leave him alone in the apartment with Timmy in this state.
He knows how much I love that cat. He knows Sabre is my world.